Stories and News No. 1221 November, 2020. We won. Once again we won. Because we are still alive. Because surviving is our triumph. And the simple daily life, which follows this unexpected primacy, is the prize. The first time the virus appeared and made its roar heard in the world, our world - immensely more tangible and vast than yours, it was in another country. Another nation. With different and at the same time similar humanity, identical for the undervalued preciousness of living and incomparable for overestimated trifles. Nonetheless, none of us has ever dreamed of considering those people as cruel planners of the evil or perfidious infectors. Because for us senseless hatred has a very high price and when you are forced to buy it, we know how the story ends. For the record, it was June 1976 and in the aforementioned sister land, nearly 300 were infected by the most invisible enemy of human beings, a creature of negligible size and proportionally inverse danger. At least h
Stories and News No. 1220 My name is Joseph, I’m from Guinea, I’m only coming but I don’t arrive, it will never happen, and this too was written. But not by me, never from me. I died , yet I am here, at six months. Six months from the shore that I left and from the one I only imagined. My last breath, the only consolation, left me while I rested in the arms of someone who has sought and found me, in spite of those who have in vain forgotten and erased me. Between Open Arms everything has gone, figuratively in the English meaning, and much more in the only interpretation that really matters, when the lights go out and you are alone inside you: humanly, an adverb now obsolete in the virtual vocabulary where the most clicked word is indifference. Nevertheless, the unspoken phrases at the moment that mattered, that is before, and the necessary and never performed actions when they would have really saved the rest of the story, they find space the same, six months after a dream called